The Dreams of a Dishonest Man
by fanficto obsesso
Summary: Draco's father is out for his head and Hermione is assigned to make sure he is kept safe. To make things even more twisted, they must stay in a tiny cottage with only each other for company and their hidden attraction for one another. Rated T for Lang.
1. Prologue

**Dreams of A Dishonest Man**

**Prologue**

"_Hermione!_"

Hermione's head perked up as she heard Ron's voice over the sounds of chaos surrounding her. She paused in tending to the fallen fighter's wounds to search for the redheaded boy. He was running towards her, avoiding blasts of various spells as they whizzed past. He skidded to stop beside her and pulled her to her feet.

"Hermione, you have to get out of here," he rushed on urgently.

"Why?"

"It's not safe." Ron quickly began helping Hermione gather up her supplies and kept throwing furtive glances in her patient's direction.

"But what about you and Harry?" Ron shook his head.

"We have to stay here." He looked down at the patient, who was unconscious and still bleeding in several places.

"You need to take him with you, too." Hermione looked down at the boy that she had been helping. The boy who had been the bane of her existence since she had stepped foot into Hogwarts. The boy who had been such a crucial part of the plot to kill Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of their time.

The boy who had grown into a man and made the decision to fight alongside them instead of against them. And that's how it had been for the past three years.

"Why do I need to take him with me? And where will I go?"

"Lucius is after him. And here." Ron handed her a small stone. "This will take you to where you need to go. When it's safe, we'll come get you."

"But what about you? And Harry?" She knew that she had already asked this, and she knew that she was beginning to sound panicked, but she didn't know what she would do if something happened to them while she wasn't there. Ron gave a small smile.

"We'll survive."

"But…" Ron gripped her shoulders.

"Hermione, you need to go. I know you want to stay, but we need you to keep him safe." They both looked down at the young man that had done so much for them in the past three years.

It had been two months since the fall of Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts. Two weeks since the Malfoy family's very public trials, where Draco and his mother were acquitted, but his father had been put on house arrest for an indefinite amount of time. Two days after Lucius had found his dead wife's body in the same drawing room where Bellatrix Lestrange had carved _Mudblood_ into Hermione's arm. It had turned out that she had been fighting illness since the time Voldemort had taken over their home and had failed to mention it to anyone. It had been the final straw that broke Lucius' back, so to speak, and he literally went mad with grief, taking his emotions out on his son, the only family he had left. Draco had managed to escape Lucius' clutches and dragged himself back to Hogwarts in search of a safe haven. McGonagall, knowing that Dumbledore would have wanted for the boy to be accepted and being a naturally compassionate person, took him in at the sight of his beaten state. Draco immediately revealed all that had been happening at the Manor right up until his mother's death and informed McGonagall that there was a rebel movement happening amongst the Pureblood community, which included his now deranged father. Draco had then asked to be on the Order's side, "the right side," he had said.

That September, Hogwarts had re-opened and only Hermione had gone back to accept the title of Head Girl, an honor that Hermione almost felt bad taking, considering that it wasn't her true Seventh Year. But McGonagall had assured her that all the students that had been at Hogwarts for that one Dark Year, as everyone was referring to it as, would be repeating their courses. Ron and Harry had not gone back officially, only going back to meet with Hermione and McGonagall regarding Order business and then they were gone again. And seeing as how the school favorite for Head Boy had left the school, Draco had been given the position and, incidentally, spent a lot of time working with Hermione.

Although they remained civil to one another, they did not go so far as to say that they were friends. They worked well together, though, albeit bickering and engaging into verbal spars during most of their meeting. But they had gotten their work done and the entire student body had to admit that the two of them had made the best Head team since Bill Weasley had been Head Boy. There was, also, the small matter that they might have even begun to develop some feelings for each other, and not just the platonic kind. McGonagall had not let Draco into the Order until two years later and he had been working alongside "the Golden Trio" since. Of course, Harry, Ron and Draco still called each other names and still bickered about Quidditch, but for the most part, they remained fairly civil to one another.

"Hermione! Go!"

Hermione was shaken out of her thoughts by Ron's urgent cry. She finally nodded and grabbed onto Draco as the Portkey was activated and they spun off to a place unknown.

* * *

**A/N: Okay! So that is the rewritten prologue for "Dreams of A Dishonest Man" (a title rewrite is also in the works :P). I am currently reformatting the plot so that it is more relevant to Deathly Hallows but, of course, it will still not be compliant with the Epilogue. Maybe someday I will write one that is, but for now, let's focus on getting my current works done. Anyway! Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 1: Hiding

**The Color Green**

**Chapter 2**

Two days later, Hermione awoke that morning and immediately began pacing the floor of her bedroom. She was beginning to seriously question her sanity. How could she have done that? And with _him_ of all people? She paused in her pacing, shook her head and angrily grabbed her things to begin to ready for the day. She brushed her teeth so aggressively that her gums began to bleed a little. She scrubbed her face hard and the skin became so red, it almost looked raw. It was as she was energetically pulling a brush through her ridiculous mane that she picked up her inner tirade once again. Draco Malfoy was a bully. He was also a prat, narcissistic, pompous, evil, gorgeous, sexy…

"Listing all of my wonderful personality traits, are we, Granger?" He was _here_. She started, again, at the sound of his voice and nearly broke her brush in two as she tugged on a knot in her hair. She felt the blush rush to her cheeks furiously, and slammed the brush back on the counter, bracing herself against it. Damn the man to hell and back.

"I wasn't talking to you, _Malfoy_," she said indignantly, barely glancing at his reflection leaning casually against his bedroom door. She continued to blush even more furiously upon the realization that not only had she been thinking out loud, but he had heard every word _and_ he got to see that Hermione Granger looked beastly in the morning while he looked delicious. _Did I really just use that word to describe Malfoy? It's official. I've gone mental._

"Yes, well, you were muttering to yourself so loudly that I couldn't help but overhear. Interrupted my beauty sleep, might I add." Hermione rolled her eyes at the last comment and tried to continue brushing her hair, but her hands began to shake with her nervousness. He stepped closer and damn if she didn't take one step back! _Get a grip, Granger! You're made of stronger stuff than that! He's just a boy, for Merlin's sake! _With that little pep talk to herself, she stopped and drew herself up to her full height, chin raised slightly.

"Whether or not I was talking loudly, it still wasn't meant for you to hear, Malfoy." To her annoyance, he simply rolled his eyes.

"Ah, so it's back to _Malfoy_, it is Granger? And here I've come to think that we could be on first name basis since we did swap saliva, after all. My mistake." Hermione felt what little hold he had on her already boiling temper beginning to slip away. How she hated this man for knowing exactly which buttons to push!

"Yes, about that. I'd rather you forget about it. It was a fluke and don't expect it to ever happen again." She inwardly smirked at how his face fell at her words. But that treacherous part of her that foolishly clung to the hope that they would someday end up together brightened at that look; maybe he liked her back, after all?

She gave him a brief nod after receiving no immediate response and was about to turn away when he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around, holding her close to his body one again. Immediately, she felt her body begin to respond. Damn. She was afraid this would happen.

"Don't you think it's a bit rude to turn away from a conversation before the other person has had his chance at a rebuttal to such an outrageous comment?" She raised an eyebrow.

"How was it outrageous? I would have thought that it would have been much appreciated on your part, Malfoy, After all, I am _only_ a mere _Mud—_." She was suddenly cut off by his lips pressing angrily against her own. _This position is starting to become awfully familiar._ Of course, she wasn't stupid. Hadn't she promised herself that she was going to start taking what she wanted? She began to respond back and grinned when she received a moan from Draco in appreciation. He must had felt it because he pulled away briefly, lips still brushing against hers.

"And what's so funny?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all, Draco." At the sound of his name coming from her lips, he smirked and began to place a trail of butterfly kisses from the corner of her lips to her ear.

"Yes, my name is _Draco_. It would do you well to remember that." What that, he slowly, agonizingly, torturously ran his tongue along the shell of her ear. Hermione shivered helplessly, nearly melting into a pool of lustful mush before he suddenly pulled away and in one more second, was gone. She blinked at the empty space before her and if it hadn't been for the residual tingling sensation she felt from the roots of her hair down to her bloody _toenails_, she would have thought that she had imagined the whole incident.

Draco stalked back into his room, infuriated with himself. Just as he had been for the past two days. Ever since the first Incident, and yes, once again, it must be capitalized to show the severity of the situation. He couldn't believe that he had kissed her! Not one, but _twice_ now! And it wasn't just regular kissing. He had tried to fucking _consume_ the girl! He sat heavily on his bed.

This was bad. Very Bad.

Draco Malfoy did _not_ lose control. He did _not_ just randomly grab girls and begin to snot them within every inch of their lives. He did _not_ let any girl, any _person_, especially not Hermione Granger, get the best of him, And he most certainly _did not_ paw at a woman like was some randy virgin boy about to get to second base for the first time. But he had done all of those things…twice. And within the past 72 hours!

He groaned and fell backwards onto his bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He didn't understand what was happening at all. This wasn't supposed to happen. All he had wanted to do was tease Granger for, obviously, having a crush on him. For staring at him all year. For wanting him when he, clearly, did not want her back. At least not consciously. Who knew that buried underneath that prim and proper person was the amount of passion that she had exhibited not once, but twice.

Twice. Meaning not one, but _two_ times. Meaning he had lost control of himself not one, but _two _times. That simply was not the way Draco Malfoy worked. If he wanted a woman, he seduced her. He flattered her with insincere compliments, charmed her with his winning smile and made her shiver with want with a subtle graze of his hand in strategic places. He eased his way into a woman's favor.

But it was not so with Granger. But then again, he was never really trying to _get_ Granger. He was simply trying to goad her into admitting that she had an interest in him after so many years of them having been at each other's throats. He never meant to actually _touch _her. Before that moment, he had never even entertained the idea of Granger being a prospective conquest.

And that's all that women were to him: conquests. He never got attached. He never invested any sort of emotion into any relationship, to use the term loosely, that he had participated in. But to her Hermione say that he should forget the Incident ever happened…well, it did something to him. Something he did not like. He felt a fury like none other towards her. It burned like a hot poker stabbing him through the chest. And underlying that, there was another emotion. One he couldn't quite place. One he didn't _want_ to place. And he most definitely did NOT want to think about the implications of what that strange chest pain could have been.

And then she simply _had_ to use the "M" word.

_Mudblood_.

Somehow, that word coming from her lips seemed wrong. It seem like that derogatory slur that society has come to recognize it as. But most of all, it made him realize how much it must have hurt to hear it, day after day after day, for the past five years.

He didn't want to hear it. He didn't like to think that he was a bad person. Evilness and to just be a bad person seemed like two different things. Evilness entailed that you were sinister. He liked the sound of that. It made him sound like the stereotypical bad boy. The Forbidden Fruit to Hogwarts' residential "good girls." But to be a bad person…Draco considered bad people to be the type that society turned their backs on. Bad people were the sort that people like the Malfoys gossiped about in hushed voices amongst their equally snobby societal peers. Draco couldn't possibly be one of those people. The Malfoy family was still well known and respected. He couldn't afford to commit such a horrendous _faux_ _pas_ such as spouting off at the mouth about _Mudbloods_ during these volatile times, especially since the Wizarding World seemed to be on the verge of war, scared citizens sussing out Voldemort supporters as if it was the proverbial witch hunt. No matter that the rest of his society had been committing the same _faux pas_ all their lives. And this is all aside from the fact that Draco had not realized how bad-mannered the word seemed until right that moment.

And so he kissed her.

And damn! The girl could kiss. And double damn! He really wouldn't mind doing it again!

He sat up abruptly. _Again?_ It shouldn't have even happened the first time! Hermione Granger was seriously _off limits._ Not because he didn't think that she would have him, because it was quite obvious by now that he easily could get past what weak defenses she had put up against him. It was because she represented so many things that went against everything _he_ represented. She was a Mud…a Mu…er…_Muggle-Born _(Damn! Even in his own bloody _thoughts_ He couldn't say it anymore!), she was a bossy, know-it-all swot, who would probably tell a bed partner that he was ejaculating wrong, she was a Gryffindor, and she was best friends with Harry-bloody-Potter and his shit-poor sidekick. And while he never really judged her based on her friends, he felt that maybe he should start if it meant that he would stay away from her.

He scoffed. _Yeah, right. Fat chance of that._

* * *

Hermione still stood in that same place, same position, five minutes after Draco had already gone up to his room. She still didn't know what to make of the man. He was utterly confusing! And what was more, she _still_ didn't know what she saw in him. He was a prat. He was arrogant. He kissed like he would consume her in one bit. She sighed and finally moved out to the surprisingly empty common room and sat on the sofa in front of the happily blazing fire. Such a contrast to the melancholy that she felt.

She didn't delude herself into thinking that Draco Malfoy felt anything for her. She would have found it a miracle if he even felt _half_ the way she felt about him. No, she wasn't naïve enough to think that she may be in love with him. He was still and arrogant prick, after all. But he oozed charm and confidence and sex appeal from every pore of his lean, Pureblooded body. It was absolutely alluring. And she didn't believe for one second that rot Lavender and Parvati have been saying for year, about how the Malfoys were part Veela. He was attractive, yes, but not in such a way that would move women to start wars over his face. His money, maybe, and judging from what she had felt pressed up against her body just moments ago, his masculine form could cause squabbles in the Great Hall at the very least.

It was just too bad that his personality for the past seven years had been absolutely repellant. He was a little shite. The running joke amongst the Gryffindor girls was that he could have been the sexiest thing to have ever crossed the threshold of Hogwarts, if only he never opened his scathing mouth. It was pretty to look at, but the sewage that spewed out of it was toxic.

And yet, she had fallen for him harder than she had fallen for any other bloke before him. The question was _why_? Had she ever stopped to think about why she had developed this silly crush on the boy who enjoyed making her life a living hell? The stupid boy who had, at many times, gotten her into trouble? The boy who called her names with that malicious tone and made her cry silently into her pillow more nights than she had bothered to count? Yes, Hermione, just why the hell DO you like him?

She sighed and stood up, heading for her room to contemplate the answer to that question.


	3. Chapter 2: Dreaming in Color

**Chapter 2: Dreaming in Color  
**

_All he saw was white._

_The pain was incredibly excruciating. He felt as if his head was being torn in two. He vaguely remembered a big, burly man cloaked in black, wearing a white mask, coming at him and tossing a hex his way. He was unprepared for the assault and fell to the ground, cracking his head on a rock. First, he saw black. Then he remembered being roused awake, most likely by a simple flick of the wand and a hastily mumbled "_Ennervate_."_

_The pain was felt immediately. And then he saw red. He figured that he was looking at the world through his own blood dripping from the wound on his head. There was a ringing in his ears. He could hear himself breathing raggedly and gasping. It was as if experiencing the pain was a causing the body to physically exert itself. He felt something placed gently into his hand and he held onto it with all his might. It was soft and much smaller than his own hand. It could have been another hand, with the way he felt whatever it was lace between his fingers. A child's hand or perhaps a female hand? Either way, he didn't care. As soon as his brain registered that he was holding onto someone's hand, he used that as an anchor. He squeezed the hand, hoping to transfer some of his own pain to this person who had chosen to stop in the middle of this brutal battle to help him. The hand squeezed his back reassuring him that everything might even turn out all right in the end._

_Then the pain increased. He saw white as it blinded him. Then he saw black as he fell into unconsciousness again. It was a while before he began to see the little pinprick of white. It grew as if it was getting closer and closer. He then realized that it was he who drew closer and closer to the white light. He felt hypnotized. The white light offered a sort of comfort to him. It was warm and welcoming. He liked the feeling, never having felt it anywhere else before. He was almost there when he heard someone calling his name. The voice was very faint, but it was still there, nonetheless._

_"Draco!" He turned around, looking for who could be calling his name. And there he was, lying on what looked to be a bed. He looked so deathly pale. His lips had already turned blue. He winced as he realized how unsightly the vision was. He had expected to see blood matted in his hair, but there wasn't. And he realized that he had been stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, and the various cuts and bruises that he had gained earlier that day had disappeared._

_"Draco, please wake up!"_

_It was that voice again. He looked around and saw a beautiful woman hovering over his pale form, sobbing. She was holding onto his cold hand and realized that this was the woman who had been holding his hand on the battlefield earlier. She must have also been the one to tend to his wounds. He tilted his head to one side, surprised by her actions. He never had any human being care for him so much as to stop what they were doing, no matter how important, and tend to his needs. True, he had been spoiled rotten and had gotten everything money could buy. But there was that physical need in him that was left unfulfilled. His parents had never physically shown their love. His own flesh and blood did not even come close to what this young woman had done._

_There was something familiar about her. Just looking at her made him feel warm inside. It was not an unpleasant feeling. It was much like the feeling the white light gave him. He rather liked it. He wished that he could feel it more often. He looked back at the white light and he was surprised at how far it suddenly seemed. He looked down at the woman again, who had climbed into bed next to him. _

_"Don't leave me, Draco."_

_He felt her warmth seep into him. It felt nicer than the light had. It reached all the way down to his bones. He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling. Then the world became all black again._

Draco woke with a start.

He had been having the same dream every night since he and Granger had arrived. It always left him with the feeling that it had really happened. He could still feel the remnants of that warmth. It lingered for only a little while before his body became cold again. He couldn't help but miss the feeling and wish it was real.

He stood up and slipped out of the room silently, not wanting to wake Granger and fall prey to her shrilling once again. He padded quietly over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He sat at the counter and mulled over the details of his dream.

The beginning, he remembered. He had been knocked down in the battle at Ottery St. Catchpole; very near to that poor excuse for a house that the Terrible Trio had called "The Burrow." He remembered falling unconscious; that would explain the black. Someone came by and revived him, tending to his wounds. He vaguely remembered someone giving him their hand to squeeze. He remembered that the pain had grown worse; most likely an effect of the hex that had been thrown at him. He had blacked out again and when he awoke, he was here. The magical clock hanging on the wall in the bedroom had said that only thirteen hours had passed since he had arrived. The room had been dark and both he and Granger were lying in their respective beds.

So, what had the rest of that dream been about?

The problem with waking up was that he never remembered what the woman looked like. Every time he woke up, the details of the woman's face trickled away, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to them. All he remembered was that the woman was very beautiful. And the way she had said his name.

"_Draco…_" It was as if she couldn't live without him. As if him leaving would cause her immense pain. As if his death would cause her to die, too.

As if she had loved him very much.

He wanted to feel that love. He figured that love was that warm feeling he felt, reaching all the way down to his bones. He wasn't even aware of why he needed it so much. He had gone all his life without much physical contact. Despite what the rumors had said, Draco Malfoy was not a playboy or a sex god. Years One through Three, it barely registered that girls were a species to be admired. Fourth year, he had Pansy, who wasn't much to look at, but doted on him unconditionally and he rather liked having her to do his bidding. Fifth year, he was too busy having fun giving unfair punishments to poor, defenseless students and plotting how to get Potter and Weasel in trouble again. Sixth year, he was too preoccupied with that assignment from Voldemort to even think about girls. Seventh year, he spent most of his time either studying, bickering with Granger, proving that his desire to join the "light" side was genuine to McGonagall, or wallowing in his own misery and guilt over his actions over the past year. In short, he was too much of a wreck to think about girls. Add to that the fact that they cancelled Quidditch due to the fact that all those people gathered in one very public and open place, exposed to anyone trying to make an attack on the school and he was one broody boy. And then, of course the last three years had been too full of battling and plotting and traveling to stop and think about girls. All that added up to Draco's lack of any caring sort of contact.

And the painful truth that Draco Malfoy, at twenty, was still a virgin.

He sighed and looked down at his now empty glass. It was much like how his life looked right now…empty. He rinsed the glass out and sat by the window. It was raining outside, dripping down the window, causing his reflection to be distorted and unclear. Just like his future. It was then that he decided that he needed to stop comparing himself to glass because if there was anything that he was actually sure of these days, it was that he wasn't as transparent as that.

Not many people took the time to get to know Draco Malfoy. He figured it was because he was just a prick to everyone. He scoffed lightly at that last thought. Merlin, was he a prick. But he wasn't sorry for it. That was the way he had been brought up to act. He was taught to act like a prick and, damn it, he wasn't going to change because someone didn't like it. But he also had feelings. Not very many, he mentally added, but he did have some. And he didn't understand one bit how that rumor about him being a playboy and the "Slytherin Sex God" started. He had never even gone on a date with any girl save for Pansy Parkinson. He actually hated the image that everyone had of him. He had always had the belief that one should save oneself for the wedding night, where man and wife could finally come together and consummate their undying love for one another while going through a new experience and adventure together.

So he was a closet romantic. So what? Just because he was a pureblood didn't mean that he had to be entirely cold blooded.

He finally felt that sleep was returning to him so he shuffled off to the bedroom (he refused to claim any sort of ownership on it, especially since he had to share it with Granger). He entered the room and was suddenly struck by Granger's form illuminated by what little moonlight could be had in the midst of the storm. She slept on her back and her mouth was slightly open. Her hair fell across her face, obscuring the rest of her features. Before he knew what he was doing, he was tiptoeing over to her bedside and lightly brushing the hair away from her face. His fingers grazed the softness of her cheek and while he felt warm, she shivered because of his touch. She was so warm where he was cold. They really were polar opposites. Feeling a bit unnerved, he quickly pulled his hand away and went back to bed. He fell asleep almost immediately and did not dream anymore.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Eleven days.

About a week and a half, now, and still no word from the Order. Hermione was beginning to think that maybe the rest had forgotten about them. She looked out the window and the sun was shining through brightly. It looked like it was a beautiful day out. She sighed, wishing that she could just go out for a little bit. She looked back down at the pancakes she was cooking for breakfast, flipped them and looked back out the window. She wondered how Ron and Harry were faring. She hoped that nothing horrible had happened to them. She would die if anything had happened to them.

"Is breakfast ready yet?" Hermione was startled out of her train of thought by Malfoy's voice. She glanced at him and tried not to notice how yummy he looked fresh from a morning shower.

"Nearly." He merely nodded on reply and began to set the table. Hermione could help but feel wistful at how domestic this all seemed. She shook her head free of the thought and proceeded to scowl at how slow the Order was in getting back to them. Just as she finished that thought, however, a loud crack came from the living room. She jumped at the sound and burned herself on the hot griddle. To her surprise, Draco was at her side in a flash.

"Granger, you really must learn some grace. You're much too clumsy." She scowled, but said nothing. He held her injured hand gently in his and took a look at it. He reached behind him to turn off the stove before anyone else was injured and led her over to the sink where he proceeded to run her hand under cold water. She hissed as the stream hit her enflamed skin.

"Hold still, Granger. Really, you are being very childish about this." Her cheeks grew rosy with irritation, but she did as he asked. Besides, she found that she rather liked the feeling of his hand holding hers.

"Well, doesn't this make a rather cute picture?" Hermione looked up so fast that she swore her neck cracked.

"Harry!" she tried to make a move towards him, but Malfoy held on tight to her wrist.

"Granger, unless you want that burn to get infected, I suggest you let me finish taking care of it." Hermione rolled her eyes and let Malfoy continue tending to her burn. He opened a cabinet over the sink and pulled out a tube of burn ointment.

"I didn't know that was there," she blurted before she could stop herself. Draco simply smirked.

"The cabinets work very much like the ice box. You think of it, it supplies it. Haven't you ever wondered why we never seem to run out of food?" Hermione blushed as she realized that no, she hadn't thought that the house could be magical. Malfoy rubbed some ointment onto her wound before gently placing a bandage over it.

"There," he said, dropping her hand quickly. "Done. Now just be more careful from now on and I won't have to play mediwizard for you again, Granger." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And you think I enjoyed tending to _your_ wounds, Malfoy?" His eyes narrowed.

"Don't delude yourself in thinking I would ever let you do so, Granger."

"How dare you!" Harry, probably sensing that another fight was about to start, stepped in.

"Excuse me. While this is proving to be entertaining and all, I think we should get down to more important things." Hermione looked at Harry as if just remembering that he was in the room.

"Oh! Right. So, what's going on?" Harry sat down at the counter and sighed heavily.

"He got away again. I had the upper hand and he distracted me before Disapparating. Good news is that we have most of his Death Eaters now."

"Does that mean we can finally leave this hell hole?" Malfoy drawled. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid not, actually. Your father wants your head, Malfoy." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Tell me something I don't know, Potter. My father's been out to get me since he escaped Azkaban."

"Well, he's offering a reward for you. He's not too happy that you seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet. The entire wizarding world is looking for you. If you recall, the world is in chaos right now. Inflation is horrible, prices for everything, including butterbeer, are skyrocketing and money is getting harder and harder to come by these days. There are a lot of people out there who aren't too nice and will do anything to get their hands on some gold." Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes.

"The bloody bastard," he mumbled. Hermione resisted the urge to reach out and put her hand atop his. She folded them neatly in her lap, careful not to jostle the injured one too much. Malfoy opened his eyes again and looked up at Harry again. "How much is he offering."

"One hundred thousand galleons."

"_Sonofabitch._" Hermione was taken aback by the amount.

"That's a lot of money." Malfoy looked at her, his eyes stormy.

"No shit, Granger. That's the amount that I was supposed to receive on my twenty-first birthday." Hermione didn't know how to reply to that, so she said nothing. After a couple beats of silence, Harry cleared his throat and continued.

"Every two weeks, someone will come and update you two on things. I trust that your luggage arrived with no problems?" Hermione nodded, remembering how two trunks appeared out of thin air the third day.

"Banishment Charm?" she inquired. Harry smiled.

"Of course." Hermione smiled back and settled into her chair. She missed Harry. "Now, do you two have any questions before I leave?"

"Yeah, Potter. Just where the hell are we?" Malfoy asked. Harry shook his head.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not!" Hermione was surprised when the question did not come so rudely from Malfoy, but from herself. Harry gave her a bemused smile.

"Because I am not the secret keeper, therefore, cannot tell you." Hermione blushed.

"Oh."

"Well, if you aren't the secret keeper, who is?"

"Ginny." Hermione gave Harry a knowing smile.

"Oh, really now? How is she, by the way, Harry?" Harry gave her a lopsided grin.

"Good, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"She's with Charlie in Romania right now. Someone's been trying to steal dragon eggs again." Hermione sighed and shook her head. She missed when the world wasn't in such disarray.

"Well, if that's all the questions for now, I'll leave you two and maybe see you in about two weeks." Hermione and Draco nodded, the former standing up to give her friend a hug.

"Take care of yourself, Harry," Hermione whispered into his ear. "Tell Ron to, too."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you, too, Harry." They separated and Hermione took a step back as Harry and Malfoy nodded at each other.

"Malfoy."

"Potter." Then with a crack, Harry was gone.


	4. Chapter 3: Cracking

**Chapter 3: Cracking**

Draco and Hermione sat on either sides of the living room sofa in silence. Hermione had already gone through every book on the bookshelf located on the far side of the room and Draco must have gotten tired of doing…well, whatever it was that he did in between meals. Hermione's brow furrowed as she pondered that. What _did_ Draco do?

"Malfoy? What is it you _do_ in that bedroom all day?" Malfoy turned his head quickly at the sound of her voice, as if he had forgotten that she was there at all. Then a lascivious grin graced his features.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know, Granger?" He wiggled his eyebrows at the Muggle-born girl and she scoffed in disgust at him.

"You're a pig." He simply shrugged.

"I'm only a man." Hermione rolled her eyes. "And, for your information, I'm not doing anything in there, really. I just sort of…lay there, I guess." Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"You lay there? For practically the whole day?" Malfoy shrugged again.

"Well, I don't just lie there. I use that time to think."

"Think about what?" Hermione mentally winced as she realized that her voice had grown soft. Malfoy shrugged.

"Different things. The future, mostly. What I'd like to do once the war is over and my father is no longer trying to have me killed." Hermione thought about this for a moment. She had not really thought about what life past this war would be like. She hadn't really thought about her own future.

"I think I might go to a Muggle university after this war is over," she found herself admitting. Malfoy turned to her.

"I actually thought about doing that, too."

"You thought about going to a Muggle university?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, there are a few Muggle universities that offer wizarding courses. For example, Oxford has a whole school devoted to wizard studies. It also happens to be the best school if you want to pursue a career in Potions. But it's much like Hogwarts and you have to wait until you get a letter to go there. Very prestigious. I'm surprised you never got a letter."

"And I'm to assume that you did?" Malfoy shook his head.

"No, they would never send one to Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater's son and assistant to the murderer of Albus Dumbledore." His tone sounded so dejected that Hermione's heart ached in the sadness he exuded.

"That's horrible." His mouth tipped up at one side.

"That's the real world for you. They frown upon those who are followers of Voldemort or who are prejudiced against those who aren't of pureblood. Yet they shun away those who had been involved with Dark Arts or had any sort of relation to someone who had been in order to keep up something as trivial as reputation. Oxford would never want to be known as a school that had taken a former Death Eater."

"That's right. You had been marked. I forgot. May I…" Hermione trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at what she had been about to ask. Malfoy smirked.

"May you what, Granger?" She blushed.

"May I see it? I just realized that even though we have been working closely with each other for the past four years, I have never even caught a glimpse of it. Even when we had to share a dorm seventh year."

"Why do you want to see it?" Hermione shrugged.

"Just curious. I've never really gotten close enough to see a Dark Mark."

"But we've been sleeping in the same room, Granger and I'm sure you've noticed that I don't wear a shirt." He smirked as she blushed again.

"And I'm sure that you've noticed that once you return from the bathroom every night, the first thing you do is turn off the light. You're just lucky that I'm ready by the time you get into bed or else I'd be irritated with you."

"You mean to say that you _aren't_ irritated with me? I always knew you cared, Granger." She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

"You and I both know that you are just stalling, Malfoy. Now show it to me!" Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest.

"No."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I don't want to, Granger."

"Well, why the bloody hell not?" Malfoy shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Tsk, tsk, Granger. You've spent too much time hanging out with riffraff lik Weaseley. You're starting to pick up on his plebeian manner of speaking." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Answer the question, Malfoy."

"There was a question? I wasn't aware."

"Why won't you show me your Dark Mark?" she finally yelled in frustration. He didn't yell back, simply stared at Hermione, a fire blazing in those usually cold, silver eyes. She was a bit afraid of him, if she was to be completely honest. But she didn't look away. When Malfoy finally spoke, his tone sounded defeated and anguished, but he looked straight into her eyes.

"Because once I do, your entire image of me will change. I guarantee you, Granger. You'll never look at me the same again." His admission caused her to inhale sharply.

"You sound so sure of that, Malfoy."

"Because I am. I know how you goody Gryffindors are. You lot are too whole and pure to tolerate the presence of a known Death Eater." He finally looked away and stared at the wall ahead. Hermione tentatively slid over to his end of the sofa.

"Malfoy," she said softly. The tone of her voice must have startled him because he turned back to her sharply, his eyes wide. She didn't say anything else, simply lifted his left arm off his lap and slowly began to roll his sleeve up. Malfoy tried to pull his arm away, but she held on fast.

"Just let me see it Malfoy."

"But…" She shushed him by putting a finger up to his lips.

"I promise I won't judge you. I already know it's there, Malfoy. Seeing it won't change anything." He didn't move and she took that as consent to continue to roll up his sleeve. And there it was, a bit duller than it may have once been, but the Mark of Lord Voldemort stood as a dark and ugly contrast to his alabaster skin. But instead of being repulsed by the image, Hermione was transfixed. She reached out towards it and brushed her fingers lightly over the scar tissue. Draco hissed softly as if it burned.

"Does it hurt?" He shook his head.

"No. But I get phantoms pains sometimes. I feel nothing where the Mark is. The skin there is numb. But every once in a while, I'll feel like I'm receiving it all over again."

"What did it feel like?" Granger idly traced the Mark, not realizing she was doing so. Draco relaxed, actually feeling soothed. He closed his eyes as his head fell back on the sofa cushions.

"It burned, of course. Like a red-hot poker was being branded into my skin. But it also felt like my arm was being cut open at the same time. I could feel Voldemort in my head, trying to take over every thought I had. As if he was trying to possess me. And in those few minutes, I relived every single bad memory I had. It was a nightmare. I was being assaulted physically, mentally and emotionally all at the same time. It was a good thing that with all that going on, I could barely manage to scream." He scoffed. "Like I would give Voldemort the satisfaction." He began to get lost in the memory, Hermione's fingers continuing to sooth him, to calm him. He saw the Dark Lord standing over him, chanting some incoherent spell. The memories came like a slideshow. The first time he had fallen off his broom. When he had lost his mother while shopping in Diagon Alley when he was five; he had started to cry, frightened that he had been left alone. Getting rejected as a friend by Harry Potter (not that he'd ever admit to another living soul that he had seen that, much less that it had happened at all). Getting turned into a ferret. Getting slapped by Granger. Seeing Granger on Krum's arm at the Yule Ball in fourth year as he felt an unknown emotion coursing through him. Hearing about Granger being sent to St. Mungo's and feeling panicked for the first time in his life. It was then that Voldemort spoke to him while in his head.

_"What's this, boy? Do you have feelings for the Mudblood?"_

_"No, my Lord," Draco had answered._

_"Are you lying to me, young Malfoy?"_

_"Of course not, my Lord."_

_"You better not be lying, boy. I'll know if you're lying. And when I find out…" Suddenly, a vision of Hermione Granger lying on the ground, cold, dead and lying in a pool of her own blood, broken, bruised, her clothes tattered, giving Draco an image of what she must have endured for her clothes to end up in that condition rose into his mind. Simultaneously, he let out a bone-chilling scream as the pain became too much._

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"_Draco…_" There was that voice again. He felt a warm hand cup around his cheek. He leaned into it, trying to hold on to the beautiful woman's warmth for as long as he could. He let the warmth envelop him. The vision of the woman with curly brown hair floated before his eyes.

"_Draco!_" she called again. He reached up and pulled her close to his chest.

"I won't leave you. I promise."

"MALFOY!" He was startled awake by Granger's shrill voice…yet again. He looked at her and realized that he had wrapped his arms around her. Her small frame was pressed close to his body. He pushed her away roughly, resulting in her falling off the sofa.

"What the blazes did you think you were doing, Granger?" he yelled, quite unnecessarily. She looked up at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

"What do you mean what _I_ was doing, Malfoy? You were the one who started hugging me!"

"I did no such thing!" He sneered. "As if I would ever lay a hand on a Mud…" The rest of his sentence was interrupted by Hermione's hand hitting him sharply across the face. His head whipped to the side so quickly, he thought he might have whiplash. For a moment, neither one of them said a word. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he slowly turned his head to look at her again. Her back was turned to him, her shoulders shaking. He instantly felt guilty.

"Granger…" When she didn't respond or turn around, he put a hand on her shoulder to try and turn her around to face him. She slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me, Malfoy!" she snapped. Her voice was shaky and it made Draco feel even lower than dirt. Why, though, he wasn't sure. It might have been because it was only the two of them living together in this tiny cottage. He wouldn't be able to leave her alone to cool down; her anger would only serve to cause an irritating tension in the house.

Yeah, he'll try to convince himself to believe that.

But he knew it wasn't that at all. Not that he would admit that; not even to himself. He sighed, knowing that he had to ap…apolo…well…do something that he wasn't used to doing.

"Granger," he tried again, softer this time. She still did not turn around. He rolled his eyes. "Come on…look at me." She sniffled a bit.

"No."

"Come on, Granger. Turn around."

"Why? So you can keep calling me Mudblood to my face?" He sighed. He knew she wouldn't make this easy. He closed the gap between them and put both hands on her shoulders, feeling her muscles tense upon contact. He slowly turned her around to face him, but she still would not meet his eyes.

"No, so I can a…apolo…apo…" He winced. He wasn't good at this sort of thing at all.

"Apologize?" she mumbled, still looking down at the floor. But he could see the beginnings of a smile peeking through. He smiled, too.

"Yes, that." He finally cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head up to look at him. But for some reason, he was at a loss for words. Hermione Granger wasn't drop dead gorgeous; that was a known fact. In fact, she was almost plain. But at that moment, she was beautiful to him. Yes, it sounded so painfully cliché, but he couldn't describe her in any other way. Her nose was a bit red as were her eyes, which were also a bit puffy. Her eyes were glistening with the tears she had cried and more were still streaming down her face. But despite that, she was beautiful. Draco used his thumbs to wipe the tears away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And before he knew what he was doing, he had swooped down and brushed his lips against hers. It hardly constituted as a kiss, but he could feel that warm, electric feeling down to his toes. He pulled away, shocked, surprised and suddenly reminded of his dream. _It couldn't be. _Then he abruptly turned on his heel to walk away.

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Hermione stood stock still for a few moments after Malfoy's departure, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. Her hand slowly came up to her mouth and she touched her fingers gently on her lips. They tingled where he had brushed against them. She felt a shudder course through her entire body. She stared at the closed bedroom door through which he had escaped just moments before. And she had an epiphany.

Draco Malfoy was an enigma.

She shook her head, coming out of her daze and puttered around the tiny house, looking for things to do. Anything to get her mind off what had just happened. She decided that tea would be a good idea; something to calm her frazzled nerves. She set about making some, thankful for the handy cabinets. As she waited for the water to heat up, she leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes. Her mind began to wander and her thoughts, of course, ended up at that poor excuse for a kiss. It was more like a brush than a kiss. Whatever it was, it caught her off guard. And she began to think; if that was the reaction from a simple brush, how would it be if they had actually kissed?

Hermione's palms began to itch and tingle as they always did when faced with an opportunity to research, experiment and expand her knowledge. What, exactly, was it that appealed to Hermione so much? In fact, what was it about Draco Malfoy that attracted almost every female he crossed paths with? Was he really as great of a kisser as the girls back at Hogwarts had said? And just what was it with them? Could it be that they were starting to go bonkers in this tiny house and they needed some sort of sexual release? Could it be that he simply needed to some sexual relief and she was convenient? Questions came and they all needed answering. Malfoy had just turned into a mystery she needed to solve. A challenge she couldn't turn down. A dare she wouldn't refuse.

She was going to crack Draco Malfoy if it was the last thing she'd ever do.


	5. Chapter 4: Cooking Up a Storm

**Chapter 4: Cooking Up a Storm**

Draco paced around his bedroom, contemplating on what had just happened. And trying to convince himself that it was simply coincidence that the warm, electric feeling he had just experienced with Hermione felt the same as the one he usually felt while dreaming of that beautiful woman. He finally stopped pacing and flopped down gracelessly onto his bed, groaning. It just couldn't be possible that Hermione Granger and the woman from his dreams were one in the same. Granger was a mud…a mu…a muggle-born. He winced at his inability to be cruel to her. He was turning into a fucking nancy boy. He was turning soft. He's been spending time with too many damn goody-Gryffindors. He turned over and rested his chin on his hands.

_Why_ had he kissed her? Well, to be technical about the thing, he hadn't really _kissed_ her. It was more like a _brush_ than and actual _kiss_ after all. But regardless, he still didn't understand why he had done it in the first place. All he knew was that one minute, he was noting how beautiful she looked at that moment, how soft and feminine. And he had felt horrible, seeing her cry because of something he had said. And then he was apologizing. _Merlin!_ He had actually _apologized_ to _Granger_! Without having to be told to and without being held at wand point. What was wrong with him? He suddenly came to a conclusion.

_Granger had him under some sort of spell._

He shook his head at the thought. That was preposterous. She was just as wandless as he was. There was no way. Unless she had brewed a potion and slipped it into his food. She was, after all, the one who made the food. It would have been a perfect opportunity for her. He narrowed his eyes. That _bitch_! He checked the clock hanging on the wall. It read that it was nearly time for supper. He left the room to find Hermione reading from a cookbook. She looked up as he made a move to sit in a stool at the counter. She blushed. _Caught you in the act, did I, Granger?_

"So…um…what would you like to have for supper tonight?" Draco never took his eyes off her and noticed that she fidgeted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Actually, I thought that we could make something together tonight." Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Together? _You_ want to cook?" He sent a charming smile her way, which succeeded in making her blush again. He shrugged.

"Sure. Why not? It could be fun, I suppose." Granger tilted her head to one side, looking at him curiously.

"Are you sure? You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Granger, I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. Is it so wrong for me to want to help for once?" She smiled amusedly.

"Actually…"

"Never mind, don't answer that." He smiled back. He mentally smacked himself. _You're supposed to be trying to find out what she's done to you, Malfoy. Not get goopy all over her. _He shook his head. Goopy? _Whatever…you know what I mean._ Draco took the cookbook from Hermione and began to look through it, trying to find something that looked appetizing. He stopped on a picture of what seemed to be a Pizza Supreme. Sure enough, the italicized script beneath the picture read _Pizza Supreme._

"Let's make this." Hermione looked over his shoulder at what he had indicated. He tried, really he did, not to smell the scent that emanated off her hair. But he couldn't help it. She smelled sweet. Like cherry blossoms, maybe.

"Sure, we can do that. Why don't you gather up the vegetables and such and I'll start on the crust." She scanned the list of ingredients quickly and bustled about pulling things out of a cabinet, smiling to herself as she pulled everything she needed from just the one. Draco smiled, too, at how she always seemed to be amazed with magic, no matter how long she had been practicing it. He had to give his head another shake. He couldn't let his guard down yet. He still had yet to figure out what she had done to him. He scanned the list quickly as well and realized that cooking seemed to be a lot like Potions. He even said it out loud.

"Yes, it is, actually. You mean you've never tried to cook before?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please, Granger. I'm a Malfoy we have house elves to do that for us." Hermione scowled at him.

"Of course." She turned away and continued to mix the ingredients together furiously. For a split second, he almost felt bad for having said anything at all. Really, a simple 'no' would have sufficed for the moment. But then he remembered that Granger still might be trying to poison him. He quickly took a peek over her shoulder to see what she was doing.

The ingredients had turned into dough and she had already started on kneading it with her hands. He watched in fascination as the big, grayish lump was manipulated by her hands. _Just like she could very well be manipulating me._

"What's in the dough, Granger?" he asked, not a little rudely, either. She didn't seem to notice, though and continued to knead the dough.

"Flour, water, a bit of salt, some yeast." Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"And what does yeast do? I've never heard of it."

"It makes the dough rise."

"Why would the dough need to rise? Isn't it supposed to be flat?"

"Well, yes. But it does need just a little bit so that it's not so flat."

"Are you sure that that's all it does?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You haven't been putting that in other foods, have you?" Hermione paused for a moment and looked at Draco curiously.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine, Granger. Why? Should I be feeling sick? Did you give me something? I knew it! You poisoned me, didn't you! You've been putting strange things in my food and that's why I've been feeling all goopy about you and I keep thinking that you could be that beautiful woman from my dreams and…" He was interrupted by a big, white, cloud hitting him square in the face. He sputtered and coughed as he inhaled a large amount of the white, powdery substance, fanning it away and rubbing it out of his eyes. When he was finally able to open his eyes, Hermione was laughing at him.

"I'm…I'm so so-sorry," she sputtered out breathlessly in between laughs. "You were…just…talking so…much…I couldn't help it. You…you should have seen…your face." She was now laughing so hard that he had to use one hand and the counter to keep her standing.

"You think this is funny, do you?" he asked. Hermione swiped at her eyes and nodded. He took several steps closer to her and bracketed her body with his own, sprinkling her with flour, he was so close. He rested his arms on the counter behind her and leaned in so close, their noses practically touched. She gasped lightly and he watched as her pulse visibly kicked up in her neck. He swallowed and mentally shook his head free of any other thoughts beginning to sneak into his mind.

"You're going to pay for that," he said quietly. But damn if it came out softer than he had intended. She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?" He smirked at her ability to keep cool in the situation, even as he watched her pulse race. He moved closer still to her so that his mouth was at her ear and his cheek brushed against hers. He felt her shudder and his smirk grew wider.

"Really, Granger." Without warning, he had dumped a large handful of flour onto her head. She screamed and he ran away laughing at her. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" He dodged to the other side of the kitchen as she came at him with another handful of flour. In retaliation, Draco grabbed some of the bell peppers he had been chopping and threw them at her. Soon, they had begun a full-fledged food fight. It was only when Draco was ready to hurl a bowl of tomato sauce that Hermione held up her hands and yelled, "Stop!" He froze, his arm poised and ready.

"Run out of ammo, Granger?"

"No, but if you throw that, we'll be here all night cleaning. This kitchen's already a big enough mess as it is. Besides, I'm hungry." As if in agreement, Draco's stomach growled. He smiled sheepishly and put the bowl down. He surveyed the room; it looked as if the refrigerator had exploded. The flour was everywhere; on the floor, the walls, the counters, the sink, even the ceiling. Draco and Hermione's hand and footprints were embedded into the white powder. A couple of tomatoes lay near his feet, smashed and ruined. He groaned inwardly, realizing that he was going to have to clean this mess up himself. With the help of Granger, of course, but her being the bossy bint that she was, he wasn't going to be able to skimp out of doing his chores and she sure as hell was going to let him get away with half-assing the job.

"Well, let's get this over with. The sooner we get this cleaned up, the sooner we can get something fast and easy cooked up."

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It was amazing. For the first time in the ten years that she had had the misfortune of knowing Draco Malfoy, she watched him clean. She stifled a giggle as she watched him gingerly pick up one of the tomatoes she had thrown at him. He grimaced and tossed it into the trash. She finally looked away and back at the flour covered counter where the fight had started. She was about to start wiping the mess away when she noticed two handprints imbedded into the powdery substance. Her hand print looked so small next to his. And for some reason, her tummy did a giddy little flip at the sight. She looked back at the fair-haired man whose back was turned to her as he wiped down the table. The muscles in his back pulled and flexed with each movement and she was unable to repress the shudder that went all the down her spine. _He really is a gorgeous man._ She allowed herself to exhale a wistful, but silent, sigh, since his back was turned. But it was as if he had heard anyway because he suddenly stopped wiping at the table and straightened up.

"Granger, would you please stop staring?" he quipped without turning around. "It's a bit unnerving." Hermione's jaw dropped and she felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"How would you be able to tell if your back is turned?" Draco took a peek at her over his shoulder and tossed her another one of his signature smirks.

"So you think I'm gorgeous, Granger?" Her face grew hotter, but she wasn't about to admit to anything. She jutted her chin up into the air.

"Of course not, Malfoy. How could you ever delude yourself into thinking that?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I heard you say it, Granger." Hermione grew pale. She told herself that she needed to be more careful about making sure her comments to herself were _kept_ to herself.

"You did not."

"Did so! Just now. You said…"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did! You said, 'He really is a gorgeous man'. I heard you, Granger."

"Well…I wasn't talking about you!" Draco pretended to look for someone who might have been standing behind him.

"Well, I don't see any other gorgeous men over here." He gave her a look over and she blushed even more furiously, if such a thing was possible at this point.

"Come to think of it, there aren't any gorgeous women here, either." They both froze, Hermione in rage and, ashamedly, in emotional pain. She looked back down at the counter, took a quick swipe at the handprints before throwing the towel down and storming off to the bedroom.

"Granger…" She continued walking and held a hand up as if to stave off whatever he had to say.

"Save it, Malfoy." She stopped in front of the door, but still did not turn around, lest he see that tears were beginning to pool in her eyes. She took a deep breath before continuing on in a quiet and defeated voice. "You only tell me things that I already know." And with that, she entered the room and slammed the door behind her.

She wasn't so hungry anymore.


	6. Chapter 5: Going Crazy

**Chapter 5: Going Crazy**

Draco felt lower than dog shit.

Lower than that even. Rat shit, maybe. Whatever shit he chose to feel like, one thing was certain: he was a right arsehole. He had made Hermione cry again. He sighed heavily, his newfound conscience nagging at him again.

_Why must you constantly be such an arse? You know that fighting only adds to the already thick tension in this house._

He knew that.

_Besides, you know good and well that what you said was a lie._

He knew no such thing!

_Lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me._

He sighed and dragged himself into the living room, sitting down heavily on the sofa. That's twice in the same day, now. Must be a new record. He scrubbed his hands down his face, frustrated with the way things were going. He knew that he was being immature, but he couldn't help it. There was just a way that Hermione treated him that made him feel so…small. She was constantly nagging, constantly bossing him around, constantly treating him like he was a child. And if she was going to treat him like a child, then damn it! he was going to act like one.

He groaned. No, that wasn't right. He wanted to get back into her good graces. If only for the sole reason that it would make their stay easier. He knew that it wasn't easy having just each other for company, especially since he knew that the attraction went both ways. He admitted it now, if only out of guilt of how he had treated her just now.

He admired her, not only her outer beauty but her inner beauty, too. She had a fire and she did everything with a passion. She was passionate about her schoolwork, about house-elves' rights, about fighting alongside her friends. She was intelligent beyond her years, sharp-tongued and quick-witted. She had a softness about her that encased a tough-as-nails soul. She didn't take shit from anyone, but for some reason, he always seemed to get to her.

At that last thought, he sighed again. He didn't like that he was the one to bring her down. He paced over to the door and passed it a few times before making a move to knock on it. Then he stopped. He figured that he'd give her some time to cool off. Not that he was a coward or anything. _Yeah, right._ He turned his back to the door and weighed out the pros and cons. Pros: He'd be in her good graces again. The tension in the house wouldn't be so great. It would redeem himself in her eyes again. _Whoa. Why would I want that?_ He shook his head and mentally crossed that one off the list. He didn't care. Did he? He kept going on with his lists. Cons: He'd have to ap…apolo…do that thing that he doesn't do again. He'd have to be honest. If he really wanted her to trust him (and, oddly enough, he really wanted her to) he'd have to be honest. He ran a hand through his hair. He'd have to honestly tell her why he was such a jerk to her. _And why was that, exactly?_

Because he was weak, that's why. Because he just couldn't admit that he may have an attraction to Hermione. Because despite the fact that he was fighting alongside all the Muggle-lovers and blood traitors, he still held most of the same ideals he had as a child. He still thought of Hermione as a Mudblood. He no longer thought of her as inferior, but she was the exception, not the rule, in his eyes. He leaned against the wall and allowed himself to slide down, banging his head against it several times. He was at a lost. He, Draco Malfoy, the one who had led his own troop of Aurors into battle, second in command to Harry Potter in the war against the Greatest Dark Lord of all time, was unsure of his next move in his new battle against his own attraction to a Muggle-born witch.

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Draco Malfoy was a class-A jackass!

Hermione buried her face into her pillow, trying to stop the tears from leaking out of her eyes. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She was tired of letting him get the best of her, tired of crying over his stupid, arsehole antics. She was tired of living in this place all alone with him, tired of him treating her like shit, hell…she was just plain tired. She closed her eyes and thought of her friends. She longed to be back fighting alongside Ron and Harry, cracking codes, finding clues, solving mysteries.

And speaking of mysteries…

She suddenly remembered her vow to crack the mystery that was her current roommate. She sat up. She had a goal, damn it! And she was going to complete that goal. She made a move to get up and stalk over to the door when she remembered her last words to him. _You only tell me things that I already know._ She sat down again. She didn't know why his words had affected her so. Why should it matter to her whether or not Draco Malfoy thought she was attractive?

_Because you know, deep down, you want him to return the feelings you have about him._

Preposterous! She wasn't vain. She didn't care what other people thought of her and she most definitely didn't care what jerks like Draco bleeding Malfoy thought of her. Even if she thought that he was the most gorgeous being on the planet and it did hurt that he would never even spare a second glance at her. She sighed and buried her face into her pillow again. She was pathetic.

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Draco stood in front of the door again, one had poised over it, ready to knock. But he wasn't ready to face the girl on the other side. So instead, he stood still and frozen in this same position. The same position he had been standing in for the past minute and a half. He sighed and finally lowered his hand, running it through his hair instead. He really had to stop doing that. He was starting to resemble a blond Potter. He scowled. Never; he was far more good-looking than Potter…not that he was prone to judging Potter's looks in the first place.

He shook his head. He was avoiding the current issue. Which was the way he had been treating Hermione. Hermione. When did he start calling her that? He turned away from the door and began to pace. What was he doing? What was he _doing_? Draco Malfoy did not act this way. He did not feel remorse about belittling other people, not even if they were unconventionally beautiful women. He did not, repeat, did _not_ apologize to said unconventionally beautiful women. And he most definitely did not do anything, Merlin forbid, _nice_ for unconventionally beautiful women, especially Muggle-born witches, unless he wanted to get into their pants. And it goes without mentioning that he has yet to get into _any_ woman's pants, unconventionally beautiful or otherwise.

He groaned. This place was starting to get to him. It was being in such close proximity with Granger all the time that was driving him nuts. It was the fact that he was in close proximity with Granger, in a little house, hidden away, so that his crazy father wouldn't be able to find him, kill him, and leave the rest of his gorgeous body for disgusting and diseased vultures to finish off. On top of that, there was that same bloody dream he keeps having every time he closed his eyes. Every night, he was half afraid of seeing her, knowing that it would drive him crazy in the morning not knowing who the woman was. And, of course, the other half would be eager to see her again, if only in his dreams. He was starting to think that whoever this woman was, she could teach him about love. About how to feel what it was like to _be_ loved. And maybe, just maybe, she could teach him to love in return. Of course, right after thinking that, he'd start to feel that maybe was already crazy and he'd start fretting about going to sleep for at least an hour longer. On top of all of that, there was still Granger. _Granger._

Just great; he was sick with worry, fearing for his life, sleep-deprived, and trying to suppress his attraction to his bossy, bitchy roommate. No wonder he was going crazy. He walked back to the living room and glanced at the clock on top of the mantle. Eleven o' clock. He sighed and settled onto the sofa. He figured that with the way things were right now, Hermione wasn't going to appreciate him coming into the bedroom, much less sleeping in it.

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Hermione woke up the next morning feeling absolutely wretched. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night, trying to get thoughts of Draco Malfoy out of her mind while at the same time, trying to hear if he ever came back into the room, ready to yell, scream, kick and scratch at him. But he never did. She entered the living room to see that he had fallen asleep on the sofa. His head was starting to loll off the edge, his long body barely fitting on the old, lumpy thing, and his mouth was hanging open. To make things all the more amusing, _the_ Draco Malfoy was snoring. Very lightly, but snoring all the same. She tiptoed over to his sleeping form and allowed herself to gaze at him, if only for a moment.

It just wasn't fair. Even in sleep, the man was gorgeous. He looked peaceful and calm, like a little cherub child. Of course, Hermione knew that that was a giant misconception. Before she knew what she was doing, she was leaning over him, so close she could feel his breath coming out in puffs on her cheek. She watched as his tongue came out to lick his dry lips and found herself helplessly mimicking the action. She stared at his glistening bottom lip. It was fuller than the top lip, creating a sexy pout. She supposed that it suited him; he was the King of Pouters. She forced her eyes away from that tempting lip and perused the rest of his face. His face was a bit scruffy from not having shaved yet. But she could already tell that he was the sort that didn't have much facial hair to begin with, making it easier to skip days of shaving. That, and the fact that his facial hair grew out so blond that it was harder to see against his skin. Speaking of which, it looked tanner than when they had been in school. She had to admit, it looked good. He didn't look so albino now. She smirked at that last thought. She finally reached his closed eyes and was surprised to find that his lashes were dark. They were long and brushed against his cheeks. She took a finger and lightly brushed against them. She brushed against his skin, too, ever so lightly. But even that light of a touch sent shivers down her arm. He must have felt it, too, because he followed her action, though he stayed asleep.

And, just like yesterday, his arms suddenly came up around her and held her body close to his. She gasped in surprise, yet again, while trying not to think about how good it felt to be pressed against his body. He nuzzled against her neck and she tried so very hard to suppress another shudder. She pulled away from him slightly and tried to wake him up.

"Malfoy…" He only responded by tightening his hold on her. She poked him in the chest. "Malfoy!" Still no response. She rolled her eyes and tried the same tactic that she had yesterday.

"_Draco_…" _She was calling him again. This time, he wouldn't let her go. He was determined to find out who she was. She was in his arms and she felt good against his body._

_"Draco!" Her voice sounded more urgent. He started to open his eyes. She was there, her face hovering above his. He smiled lazily and reached a hand up to her face, brushing a few of her wavy brown locks behind her ear._

_"So beautiful…" he murmured. She didn't move. She simply stared at him. The hand that hand brushed her hair away now grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged her face to meet his. She didn't resist. Her eyes began to close and he smiled, keeping that smile there as his lips met hers. And as soon as their lips touched, he felt fire, excitement and there was something else. Something familiar. Something he was very familiar with._

Passion.

There was so much passion in his kiss. As if his entire life depended on this one kiss. She didn't know why she let him kiss her. Didn't know what…or who…he was dreaming of. She couldn't help but feel a little sting of jealousy.

"Teach me," he mumbled against her lips as he pulled away, his eyes still only open at half-mast. It was obvious that he was teetering on the edge between sleep and consciousness. She decided to play along with him for now. And although she tried to tell herself that it was because you should never wake a sleepwalker or talker, she knew that it was because she really didn't want him to let go of her and continue to be cruel. She liked a dreaming Draco better.

"Teach you what?" she finally asked in return.

"Teach me to love."

"_To love?_"

_"Yes. Teach me to love." She smiled at him, amused._

_"And just how should I teach you that?"_

_"I don't know. I've never loved before." She frowned._

_"Never? Not even your mother or father?" He scoffed. His mother, who was good at giving him every material possession he had ever wanted but never delivered when it came to emotional needs, and his father, who had tried to beat him into the mold of the "perfect" son. No, there was no real love there._

_"Never in my entire life."_

_"Surely you must have felt something for someone. Even if you didn't know what it was at the time."_

_"Is what I'm feeling right now love?"_

_"What do you think?"_

_"I've never felt this way about anyone before."_

_"What is it that you feel?" He pushed his dream woman away long enough so that he could take her hand and press it against his chest. His heart was racing. It felt like it had swelled up. He thought that it might burst out of his chest any minute. The warmth that she emanated was seeping into his soul; he almost felt on fire. He noticed the blush on her cheeks._

"That's what I feel." She gasped. He wondered who he could be dreaming about. His hand felt so warm in hers and his heart was beating so fast, it almost felt like a hum. She reached out a trembling hand and brushed it against his face.

"I think it's time for you to wake up."

"I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"If I wake up, you'll be gone." She closed her eyes, cursing the woman who had seemingly stolen this man's heart. She took his hand and placed it on top of the one still resting over his heart.

"I'll be right here."

"That's not good enough!" She was surprised at his outburst because he had sat up and his eyes were wide open. He was awake. She felt a pang of disappointment that their moment had ended. He clutched at her arms and pulled her close to his body again. _Or had it?_

"Who are you?" Hermione looked at him, puzzled.

"Malfoy, have you gone mad?" He stared at her for a minute before blinking his eyes a couple of times. His brows then furrowed in confusion.

"Granger?" She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Yes, Malfoy. The same girl you've been living with for the past two weeks. Now would you kindly unhand me? I'd like to get started on breakfast, if you don't mind." He didn't let go right away, simply stared at her for a minute more.

"Malfoy? Did you hear me?" He shook his head.

"It…it _can't_ be." She looked at him puzzled.

"What do you mean it can't be? Of course it can. I'm Hermione Granger, you're Draco Malfoy. I'm the swotty Gryffindor that you had mercilessly teased for seven years through Hogwarts and you're the ferrety git that continues to annoy me on a daily basis. Now that we've established all that, could you let me go? I need to use the loo." He finally let go of her, but was still looking at her strangely. Feeling a bit unnerved by his wide-eyed stare, she hurried off to the bathroom.

Draco stared at the place where she had been standing moments after she had gone, used the loo and skipped off to the kitchen to get breakfast started. He tried every which way to explain it, but no matter what, the outcome was the same. It only could have been one of two possibilities, really. 1) His reality had begun to mix with his fantasy and the woman only _looked _like Granger, but it wasn't really her. Or 2) The woman from his dreams and Hermione Granger were one in the same. For some odd reason, he hoped that it was choice number two.

Damn! He _was_ going crazy.

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**A/N**: I hope that all made sense. I apologize if it doesn't. Please bear with me and please, please keep the reviews coming. They're like crack to me. I'm addicted. The more you give, the more I write. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 6: You'll Ruin It

**Chapter 6: You'll Ruin It**

Day 23.

Twenty-three days since they had arrived and four since she had last spoken to Draco. In fact, it seemed that besides meals, she rarely ever saw him. He didn't even sleep in the bedroom anymore, instead favoring the lumpy living room couch. One would even begin to think that he was trying to avoid her. _Hmm…interesting._

She was currently chopping up vegetables for a beef stew dinner and besides the sound of knife hitting cutting board, the house was silent. She was really beginning to hate silence. It was starting to eat her up from the inside out. Hermione was a talker. She couldn't deal with long periods of silence and this one was beginning to drive her mad. She was not even sure what the cause was. Only that Draco had chosen to revert back to his taciturn self from the first week of their stay.

She sighed loudly, if only to break the maddening silence for just a moment. She kept chopping, her pace getting more hasty and reckless in her frustration with her roommate.

"You'll cut your hand off if you're not careful." The sudden break in silence startled her and she did, indeed, cut her hand. She yelped and dropped the knife.

"Bloody hell, Granger!" Draco rushed forward and pulled her hand into his for the second time since they had been living together. He pulled the first aid kit out and set about gathering the materials needed to clean and dress her wound.

"We should keep you out of the kitchen; you'll get yourself killed in here, eventually." She smacked him playfully with her good hand, but said nothing as he began to threat her injury with gentleness and care.

"You know, I can't always be here when you get hurt, Granger," he stated calmly and softly. She looked up at him.

"But why are you helping me at all?" He met her eyes, still holding her hand, an alcohol-soaked cotton ball poised over her cut. _Why _am_ I helping her?_ he asked himself.

'_Because you know you owe it to her,_' said the voice he had just recently learned was his long-absent conscious.

I owe her nothing.

_She took care of you. She saved your life._

We're not sure of that.

_I think we've been sure for the past four days._

Frustrated with his logical conscience, he pressed the cotton ball to her cut a bit too harshly. She hissed and tried to pull her hand away, but he held on.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He mentally winced at his immediate apology. The woman was having an affect on him. But it seemed that it worked because her hand immediately relaxed. They were both silent as he finished cleaning the cut and sticking a bandage over it. He brushed his thumb lightly over it, soothing her.

"Better?" he murmured. She nodded.

"Yes, much." They stood like that for some time before they both started talking at once.

"Why are you…" Hermione started, while Draco said, "Did you…" Hermione smiled.

"I'm sorry, you first." Draco shook his head, an amused smile playing at his own lips.

"Ladies first." She looked down at where their hands were still joined. She frowned.

"Draco, why are you doing this?"

"What? Holding your hand?"

"No…I mean…why do you confuse me so much? One minute, you're being this sweet man who cleans my burns and cuts for me. The next minute, you turn into this hermit and avoid me at all costs. What's your deal, Draco?" By the end of her tirade, she had pulled her hand out of his and was now staring up at him, fists digging into her hips in that classic Granger pose. Draco tried and failed to stifle his amused smirk.

"Well, wouldn't you have done the same for me?" Those words seemed to do it and she lost some of her energy, looking a bit embarrassed, even.

"Of course. But…"

"But…what?" She shrugged.

"I don't know. You've always been so…mean in the past. I just don't see why you would bother being nice to me now." Draco frowned.

"You mean you would rather me be nasty to you just so that I don't _confuse_ you? You think I might have an ulterior motive, is that it?" He knew that he was being unreasonable, but the answers she wanted were ones he wasn't even ready to admit to himself. He couldn't possibly tell her that he was falling in lo--.

Whoa, buddy. Stop right there.

"No! Draco…" She took a couple of steps towards him. He started to back up, but stopped himself so that they were now toe to toe. He heard her breath catch. He supposed that she wasn't expecting them to be so close. He tried not to inhale her scent; a difficult feat at this proximity. She took in a deep, steadying breath before speaking again.

"Do you hate me?" Her voice was so small, almost fearful that he would answer in the affirmative. It nearly tore him to pieces. As it was, it did affect him somehow. He softened towards her and even brushed her hair behind her ear; a poncy move that he never would have thought to execute. He refrained from thinking too much about it.

"No," he whispered. "I don't hate you."

"Then what do you feel?"

"I…" He faltered in his answer. What was he to tell her? He looked at her and decided to tell her the truth. "I'm not quite sure yet. But I know I don't hate you." His hand, which had been lingering by her ear, cupped the back of her neck, his fingers sifting through her hair.

"What about you? Do you hate me?" She blinked up at him

"No, I don't." Once again, he felt himself drawing his face closer to hers. He wanted to stop, he didn't want to do anything that would startle her or give her more reasons to be aggravated with him. But he felt like he needed it. He needed to feel her lips upon his. He continued to draw closer and she didn't draw away. On the contrary, she was drawing closer to him, too.

"What are we doing?" he whispered against her lips.

"Shh…don't think about it." And with that, their lips met in a full kiss. It was mind-blowing. He had only felt this sort of passion once before, in a dream. There was no doubt that Granger was the woman who had continuously haunted him in his dreams. After a bit, he pulled away from her.

"Granger, I still have something to ask you." She lightly nipped on his bottom lip and he had to hold back a groan.

"What?"

"That first night…I was hurt. It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who took care of me." She nodded.

"Yes, it was me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione shrugged.

"It never came up, I suppose. Why?" He gave her another deep kiss before answering.

"No reason." _Just that we've just confirmed that the dream woman I've been steadily falling in love with for the past two and a half weeks turns out to be the same woman that has the power to drive me to complete insanity. And I don't care one whit. _Draco smiled at his last thought and continued to kiss as if he was on his last breath. He poured all of himself into this one kiss, hoping to convey the message he could not yet say aloud. When they pulled away one final time, she had tears in her eyes. He gave her a lopsided grin, knowing that she had felt it.

"Draco…I…" He shushed her with a finger pressed to her lips.

"Shh…you'll ruin it." He then turned away and picked up where Hermione had left off in cutting vegetables. She blinked several times and stood stock still, just sort of gawping at Draco. She was speechless for a full minute before she gave a frustrated sigh and set about to finish preparing dinner with him. As they went through the motions, Draco could hear her muttering curses directed at him, most of them along of the lines of "…stupid, insufferable, confusing man!" He smirked amusedly to himself. She was simply adorable.

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After dinner, Draco and Hermione sat at either ends of the sofa in the living room, each reading a book. Hermione shuddered, causing Draco to look up.

"Cold?" he inquired. Hermione nodded.

"Just a bit." Draco turned his body a bit and opened up his arms in silent invitation. She smiled and scooted towards him to share his body heat. She laid her head back in the crook between his neck and his shoulder and let him wrap his arms across her chest. She sighed contentedly before they both resumed reading. After a few pages, he felt Hermione's head turn. He looked down at her to see a mischievous grin on her face. He raised an eyebrow at her, immediately suspicious.

"What?" She shook her head.

"Nothing. You're…you're just handsome is all." He gave her a smirk.

"Of course, darling. Don't you dare forget it."

"No, of course not." She returned to her book, allowing him to return to his. A couple of pages later, he felt her beginning to place light butterfly kisses on his neck. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side to give her better access. She finally made her way up and hovered over his lips, but she didn't let hers meet his, as he had expected she would do.

"What are you…" She interrupted him by placing a finger over his lips, just as he had done to her earlier.

"Shh…you'll ruin it." With that, she stood and flounced over to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. Draco let his head fall back onto the cushions.

"That woman will be the death of me for sure."

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**A/N: **Yeah...I don't really like this chapter. I had a giant case of writer's block while writing it and decided just to put something down to get the story going. I forgive you if you hate it :(

But no flames, please! It'll hurt my feelings.


	8. Chapter 7: Surprise Guest

Wow...

Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I had hit a dead end of sorts and felt like I needed to stop and think about where I really want to take this story. Needless to say, I'm back!

And I finished Deathly Hallows yesterday, so I've got the energy needed to keep going.

And I think we're all agreed that we're going to totally disregard everything that happened since this story isn't compatible with that one. Haha.

Anyway, I now give you...

**Chapter 7: Surprise Guest**

_He was running down a dark corridor. It seemed familiar, but at the same time, it wasn't. He could hear no sound, save for the sound of his own breathing, in his ears. He was searching. He wasn't sure for what, but he was frantic. Panicking. He knew then that it must have been serious for Malfoys never panicked and they most certainly were never frantic._

_He continued to run. The corridor was lined with doors and each one he came upon was locked. His arm continued to burn. The Dark Lord was summoning him. He knew it was a trap. And despite the pain it caused, he continued to ignore it. It wouldn't do him well to abandon his search now. But he began to have a very bad feeling once he grew closer to the end. He was in agony now. The pain was almost too much. It felt like he was receiving it all over again. But he needed to keep going. He thought of Hermione and how he had to be strong for her. Why he thought of her at that moment, he wasn't sure. But it didn't feel right to be thinking about her at this time. He felt an ill sense of foreboding and held his wand ready before blasting open the last door._

_And there was Hermione, _his_ Hermione, lying on the floor in a pool of drying blood, the Dark Lord and what was left of his followers standing around her, menacing smiles on each face._

_"So glad you could join us, young Malfoy. Too bad you can't stay."_

_"What—." He was cut off as his own father issued the Cruciatus Curse on him. And he screamed in agony. For his physical pain, for his own stupidity, and finally, for Hermione. And for her he screamed and screamed and screamed…_

"Draco! Draco, wake up! Please, wake up! You're scaring me!" Hermione continued to try and rouse Draco, who had disturbed her slumber with his thrashing and moaning about. And then he had started screaming. Screaming as if he was being tortured. And that's when she began to feel frightened. She tried a couple more times to wake him, but he was too far into his nightmare to hear her. He stopped his thrashing, but continued to whimper as tears and sweat dripped down his face. She crawled under the covers with him and wrapped her arms around him, hoping that he would feel her presence subconsciously and take comfort in it. She thought that he had when her name came from his lips.

"Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. She petted his face, wiping away the tears. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I was too late." She began to cry. It seemed that he was dreaming about her death. She held on tighter.

"Don't worry, Draco," she whispered, hoping that he would be able to hear her. "I'll never leave you." At her words, his eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly. He looked straight at her, but it was as if he wasn't really seeing her and pushed her away.

"Draco! What's the matter?" He turned to the sound of her voice, but still had that glazed look in his eyes, as if he was still dreaming.

"Hermione? Where are you?" She took his hand in hers tentatively and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm right here." He blinked a couple of times and finally focused on her. He took her into his arms and simply held her. He didn't say anything for a long while, but she figured that he simply couldn't say anything, really. So she patiently waited.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered. "It seemed so real." She pulled away slightly, still allowing him to hold her loosely in his arms.

"What happened? What did you see?" He looked away from her and a dark shadow fell upon his face. He shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." Hermione nodded her head in understanding before holding him close again. He gave her a light squeeze and just held her in the circle of his arms before getting up to use the bathroom.

He splashed some cold water onto his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The stricken look still lingered there, along with a slight shadow underneath his shimmering grey eyes. He hadn't realized how much it hurt to love. How it would feel if all of a sudden, Hermione was taken away from him, nay ripped away just as in his nightmare. He rubbed at his chest. His heart had been beating like mad, almost like it was going to burst. He had had a hard time breathing and his lungs ached for some air. Was it worth it to hurt that much, to panic? Was being in love worth all that? He didn't know. He ran his hand through his hair and after one more hard look at his reflection, he exited the bathroom.

Hermione turned as he re-entered the room, a look of concern on her face. He smiled and felt his chest swell once more. But while earlier, it had been a painful result of his panic, this felt more like a comforting sort of warmth that enveloped him, soothing him. He closed his eyes and basked in the feeling for a bit. He smiled down at her, feeling much better already. She must have taken that as a good sign and smiled back. He settled back down next to her, lifting the duvet away from the bed in a silent invitation. She settled down next to him, being the comfort that he needed at the moment.

He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. He had to admit, it felt good to have her in his arms this way. It felt good to have someone who cared enough to be a comfort. It made him feel less alone. And yet, he still felt that he wasn't worthy of her. He had treated her like shit, admittedly. He was mean, cruel, and felt not one iota of remorse for it. In fact, he reveled in the knowledge that she was miserable because of him. He didn't deserve her at all, yet here she was.

He looked down at the girl in his arms to find that she had fallen asleep, her cheek pressed against his chest, one arm gently draped across his torso. He brushed a few stray locks of hair away from her face and stroked a hand down her cheek. She stirred a bit, but didn't wake, unconsciously cuddling more into his lean body. He tried not to think about how soft and warm her body was, pressed up so intimately against his. He closed his eyes and thought about his latest dream, instead.

The details were beginning to trickle away. He had been running down a corridor, but he couldn't place it. And his arm had been burning. He lifted his arm, careful not to jostle Hermione too much and took a look at it. It looked the same as every other day: dull, getting duller by the day. But in his dream, he remembered that it had been glaring brightly, furiously at him. Much more vivid than when he had first received it. He pondered lightly about what the implications of that might have been. He lowered his arm and once again looked at Hermione.

She was beautiful. Not conventionally so, at all, but she was beautiful in her own right. She was caring, clever, witty, funny and had the ability to see the bright side of every situation, while still being able to be realistic. She had this aura about her that simply drew him like a moth to the proverbial flame. And while she had many good qualities, she was also bossy, sarcastic, temperamental, and, not to mention, she had a good right hook. She drove him mad, was as stubborn as he was and just as unwilling to back down during a fight. She was feisty and damn, if it didn't turn him on. He shook his head at his own dumb luck at being able to have her.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered into her ear. "But I sure as hell intend to keep you." And with that, he finally let sleep overtake him again, a smirk playing across his lips.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning, a bit disoriented at finding herself on the opposite side of the room than what she was used to. After taking a second to remember why she was there, she reached out subconsciously to find that Draco was no longer there. But his side of the bed was still a bit warm, so he couldn't have been up for much longer than she. She smiled and curled up a bit closer to his side, his lingering scent still on his pillow. Even just the smell of him was comforting.

And that scared her.

Not even three weeks ago, she hated Draco Malfoy.

_Or did she? _

If she had to be honest, and let's face it, Hermione Granger was nothing if not honest, she had begun to feel something other than contempt for Draco since they had worked together as Head Girl and Boy at Hogwarts. Yes, they argued and bickered a lot, but it was mostly good natured. There was a tension between them, but it wasn't full of malice or hatred at all. If anything, it was mostly sexual, to be honest.

And, as already established, Hermione was honest almost to a fault.

She sighed and rolled over onto her back, simply staring at the ceiling, considering their situation now. For nearly three weeks, she had been living in extremely close quarters with the boy she had been secretly admiring for the past three _years_. She knew that he felt something, too, saw it in his eyes. But what was she to do about it? This was nice now, but what about when they were finally able to leave this godforsaken place? Did they pick up where they had left off? Did they go back to pretending they hated each other? Or did they mutually agree that they would leave this safe house with no ill feelings, just fond memories? Leave this time as their fling, of sorts. She groaned as all these questions popped into her head, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

"Oh yes, just like that, but once more with feeling, babe." Hermione's head snapped towards the new voice and rolled her eyes as Draco strutted into the room with a towel slung low on his hips, body glistening with the moisture from his recent shower. She tried hard not to stare. Well, not _that_ hard. Ok, she wasn't trying at all to stop staring at Draco's well-sculpted body. It was very obvious that he took care of himself. She raised an eyebrow at him, silently noting his state of undress and covering up the fact that she was affected by it. He threw her a charming and somewhat sheepish look.

"I forgot my clothes," he said quietly. She smirked at him, in true Malfoy-esque style and blatantly ran her eyes over his body. She had no idea where this brazenness was coming from and was almost mortified until he saw that her perusal had an obvious effect on him.

"Just my luck, then." He returned her smirk and winked at her. He leaned against the doorjamb, one hand keeping a good hold on his towel.

"Just how lucky do you feel, Ms. Granger?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and she simply rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him.

"Oh, go put some clothes on. We're due for a visit from the Order today." He easily dodged the pillow and laughed before ducking back into the bathroom. Hermione tilted her head to one side as she realized that she had never heard him laugh before they began living here together. Even while at Hogwarts, even when they managed to have some decent conversation, he hadn't laughed. If he thought something amusing, he would simply smirk. That was the most reaction one would get.

But here, in this little cottage that they had both begun to hate less and less with each passing day, Hermione had heard him laugh more times than she had supposed he had in his entire life. For some reason, Draco seemed to be so much more relaxed while he was here, away from his controlling father, away from the Hogwarts rivalry, away from the war…away from civilization as they knew it. It seemed like they were both in a bubble, an existence to themselves, worlds apart from the one they were hiding from.

She sighed and put an end to her musings before getting up and starting on breakfast. She hummed quietly to herself as she set about mixing, pouring, frying and flipping, letting herself enjoy the domesticity of their situation. She heard a pop from the living room and, thinking it was Harry again, she called out.

"Harry, would you like to stay for breakfast today?" She heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen, but kept her back turned towards her guest as she continued to cook up a storm.

"I'm afraid I can't, but could you, please, tell me where I might find my son?" Hermione gasped and spun around to face…

"_Malfoy…_"


	9. Author's Note

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE!**

I apologize for the false alarm. I know that it's been an abominably long time since I've updated, but I'm in the process of reevaluating my WIPs and rewriting. When I first started both stories, it was before the release of Deathly Hallows and now both are irrelevant and I hate that. I assure you that the main plots will not change, just a few minor details and fixing a few grammatical errors and story flow problems.

So, please, my ever faithful readers, be patient as I go through this process and I promise you won't regret it!

Also, thank you for being so loyal and sticking to my stories. It really means a lot to me every time I get a new Favorite Alert in my inbox. It lets me know that this obsession isn't so stupid.

Thanks again and expect to see great things soon!

Love,

Fanficto Obsesso


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